Falling Stars
by Mystwalker
Summary: The year is 1992. Veld takes a rookie Turk on a mission to Junon to recover a lost item, but wind up finding something completely different, a child who just wants her wings. No pairings. Turkfic.
1. Swordsman of the Village Rain

**Falling Stars**

**By:**

**Mystwalker**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy VII.

**A/N: ** Taking a short break from **Another Side **to write this because I was starting to get a little stir-crazy about going through the Shinra Building sequence (it's LONG), and I needed to get this out of my head and clear my palette, so to speak, so that I didn't end up making the next scene in **Another Side**, which is supposed to be really dramatic and supposed to involve a lovely bit of drama and discussions about morality, into something really rushed and stilted.

This fic is related to my AU **Final Fantasy VII: Another Side, **but it's set before the canon divergence, so the world of this fic is pretty much canon. You don't need to read **Another Side** to understand this fic, but reading this fic will help you get a better picture of **Another Side **if you are reading it. It's basically an origin story for one of the characters.

XxXxX

**Chapter One: Swordsman of the Village Rain**

_[ μ ] – εуλ 1992_

_March_

Veld studied the weapon lying across his desk. It was a slender katana encased in a well-worn sheath, the hilt wrapped in white leather. The sheath had seen better days, but its owner had obviously kept it well-maintained—although it was cracked and weathered in places, it was clean, and had obviously been repaired to the best of its wielder's ability. To the untrained eye, the weapon didn't look like much, but Veld knew better. With care, he placed one of his hands on the hilt and the other on the sheath, tugging on the hilt gently. It slid up, exposing a length of gleaming blue-edged steel. The blade had been lovingly maintained, and sharpened to a lethal point. Directly underneath the hilt, a pair of Wutaian characters had been inscribed, the mark of the swordsmith that had forged it.

_Murasame. _

Village rain.

Veld slid the sword entirely back into its sheath, taking a step back and glancing at the stack of papers that surrounded it. They were reports, mostly, and pictures salvaged by from security cameras. All of them depicted a dark-haired figure standing in the middle of a crowded room, cutting, cutting, and cutting. Reports accompanied the pictures, but they were all things he had read before. "...a_ll operatives defeated..." "...attacker apprehended by arriving reinforcements..."_

He swept the reports into a neat stack and put them away, his eyes landing on the last picture. It was fastened to an employee information sheet, one with the letterhead of the General Affairs Department.

The leader of the Turks looked up at a knock to his door.

"Come in," he said.

The door slid open, and a young man stepped inside. Looking at him now, clean, healed of the injuries he had sustained in the fight, and dressed in a dark suit, it was almost hard to believe he was looking at the same man that had attacked the Gongagan outpost three months ago. The man in front of him could be no older than eighteen. But the eyes told him all he needed to know. The eyes and the scar.

The man came to a stop in front of Veld's desk. Veld saw his eyes glance downwards at the sword on the table. A flicker of recognition appeared in them for a moment, but he didn't let it show on his face. His eyes moved upwards, meeting Veld's head on.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" he asked.

"Yes," said Veld. He glanced at the man's attire. "...I see you've found the uniform."

"It was hard to miss."

There was a trace of bitterness there. But of course, there would be. Joining the Turks had bought this man his freedom, but he supposed to him, it was just a prison of a different kind. It had been a long time since Veld had last let such things get to him. "How do you like your apartment, Shion?" he asked almost conversationally.

"It's nice. A little big for me. I could have done without the surveillance equipment though."

Veld's mouth quirked up in a hint of a smile. "Good," he said. "You're learning. But all in due time. We're not too sure we can trust you yet, considering the circumstances of your appointment. At any rate..." He gestured at the sword on his desk. "I believe that belongs to you."

Shion's eyes widened. He reached out a hand to take it, then hesitated, his hand hovering in the space between him and the desk. "You're giving it back to me?" he asked.

"You're a Turk," said Veld. "You need a weapon. Besides, there's no point in hiring a swordsman and not letting him have a sword."

Shion hesitated for a moment more. He nodded once, making his decision, and picked up the sword from on top of the desk.

"My swordbelt?" he asked.

Veld inclined his head toward the cabinet to his left. As Shion started towards it, he spoke up. "We can get a magnetic sheath installed into your suit if you prefer," he said.

The newly appointed Turk opened the cabinet, immediately locating the belt and slipping it on. He shook his head, sliding the sheathed sword into it and allowing the blade to rest against his hip on his left side. He lifted one hand, resting it lightly on the hilt. "You just said you wanted me to fight the way I've always fought," he said. "And that means drawing from the side, not the back."

"Suit yourself," said Veld. "I didn't call you here to exchange pleasantries, though."

Shion frowned, looking over his shoulder at the other man. "I figured as much," he said. "What is it?"

"Your first job," said Veld. He caught the way the swordsman tensed at the word, the tension traveling up his body and into his shoulders. The fingers of his left hand curled loosely around his sword hilt. It wasn't his drawing hand, so Veld let it be. He picked up a heavy folder from beside him, holding it out towards Shion. Shion walked towards it, frowning as he took it from him. He flipped it open, scanning the first page quickly.

"Junon?" he asked. Veld nodded, and the young Turk looked up. "You're sending me alone?" he asked, disbelief evident in his tone.

"Of course not," said Veld, smiling slightly. "You'll be accompanying me."

Shion stared at him. "...You, sir?" he repeated.

"Consider this your first test," said Veld. "I'll take command for now, but I'll also be evaluating your performance."

The younger Turk stared at him for a moment more, before nodding once. He glanced down at the file, opening it and continuing to read. Veld shook his head. "Finish reading on the chopper. I'll brief you there as well," he said. "We need to head out immediately."

Shion frowned, but nodded once, snapping the folder shut. "Sir."

"And one more thing, Shion," said Veld as he started toward the door. Shion looked up at him, then glanced down as Veld held something out to him. It was a small card, one with the Shinra company logo on it and his picture. Shion took it from him gingerly, as if it was a snake and he was afraid it would bite him. "Unless you're going undercover, never go anywhere without your ID."

Shion nodded once, taking it and slipping it into the inside pocket of his suit. Judging from the look on his face, it seemed as though he didn't want to have to look at it any longer than necessary. Veld waited until he was done, then started for the door. The other Turk hesitated. For a moment, Veld thought he wouldn't follow, but before he had reached the door, Shion fell into step behind him. His reluctance was evident on his features, but he had obeyed, and he was ready.

_We'll make a Turk out of you yet, _thought Veld, glancing at the young swordsman beside him before heading out of the door.

XxXxX

Junon had seen better days.

That was Shion's first thought as he followed his new superior onto the helipad of the Shinra building there. He could see the ocean from up here, but it was an unrecognizable muddy color, and the city sprawled out in front of him on the other side. Shion wrinkled up his nose as the smell of the air hit him. It was slightly sulfurous, no doubt coming from one of the factories in the area. He glanced at Veld to see if he had noticed, but the man was simply continuing to walk, heading towards the door on the rooftop.

Shion wasn't quite sure what to make of Veld. It had been a scant three days since the Turk leader had approached him in his prison cell, and had offered him something Shion had once told himself he would always refuse. A job, with Shinra's most infamous department. A chance to—how was it Veld had put it?—put his considerable talents to good use instead of squandering them in prison. He wasn't sure he considered a job with the Turks as "good use", but he had accepted, and now here he was. He had expected to be treated as the enemy as soon as he got out, and certainly there was some of that—the surveillance cameras he had found in his new apartment, for one—but for the most part, Veld was treating him like...

...Like a new employee. Someone who had chosen this of their own free will.

Thinking about it made him slightly uncomfortable, so he did another thing he thought he would never do. He put those thoughts aside and focused on the mission, following Veld towards the door. The guards at the door barely spared him a second glance, although when they glanced at him the first time, Shion saw recognition in their eyes. His own eyes hardened, and he glared at them, but their eyes flickered to his suit, and he said nothing.

It wasn't just him, he realized as they walked into the building. Some of the other employees watched Veld with distrust as well. The older Turk didn't seem to care, letting their stares brush right off him with the ease brought on by years of practice. Shion didn't have years of practice. He noticed the whispers.

"_...What are the Turks doing here?" _

"_Shh...not so loud, they might hear you!" _

Shion glanced at Veld again. This time, he caught Shion's eye. A flicker of a smile appeared on his face, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly. Before Shion registered what he was doing, he nodded back, following Veld in silence through the walls. Their business wasn't here anyway. The mission he was accompanying Veld on involved the streets of Junon. And although the rest of his day had been full of surprises, this mission had been exactly what he had thought a Turk mission would be. Shion's expression grew grim as he recalled the specifics, his left hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.

They were to recover an item from a traitor to Shinra—one who hadn't known that he had been discovered yet. They were to uncover his associates.

And then, as discreetly as possible, they were to kill him.


	2. Promises of Spring

**Falling Stars**

**By:**

**Mystwalker**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy VII.

**A/N: **

**Licoriceallsorts, **it was actually a little bit of both. It was meant to be a placeholder name while I was writing Another Side, but I decided to go with it since the names are different enough in pronunciation (Shi-on versus "Sung"), meaning (Shion = aster flower), and origin (Japanese vs. Chinese) that I didn't think I was using something that sounded too much like Tseng. I was thinking of giving him a Japanese name anyway and while I was writing it just stuck. I considered changing it later on, but by then, Shion had made his way into several chapters of Another Side, so I let it go.

XxXxX

**Chapter Two: Promises of Spring**

It was still early enough in the day that the streets of Junon were crowded, although they seemed to be on their way towards clearing out. Shion watched as people streamed along either side of him and Veld, giving the two Turks as generous a berth as they could give them in the crowd. His hand itched for his sword, but he kept it firmly at his side, keeping his eyes trained in front of him. The young swordsman didn't much care for the crowd. His hometown of Gongaga wasn't known for its multitude of people, and although he had spent three months in Midgar, they'd mostly been in the prisons. He didn't have much experience with the sort of urban sprawl that seemed to be common in the larger cities of Gaia, one or two trips to Cosmo Canyon or the Gold Saucer not withstanding.

In a crowd like this, and dressed as they were in the uniform of the Turks, anyone could be an enemy. But the uniform had its advantages too. It set them apart, but it also gave people a reason to stay away.

They were heading into the marketplace to conduct some preliminary investigations about their target, a low profile weapons merchant by the name of Aaron Ross. From the report compiled by the Turks' secondary division, Ross had been extracting information from a source within the company over the course of several supposed business meetings. The source's identity was revealed in the report as well—he worked in the Junon branch of Shinra Incorporated, but he was currently being monitored by other members of the General Affairs Department. The Turks' information had tied Ross to a break-in a few weeks ago at one of the Science Department's research outposts, where he was apparently implicated in the theft of an experimental type of Materia. For obvious reasons, the company didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands.

Unfortunately, if they were too overt about its retrieval, there was a good chance that Ross would take the Materia and flee the city, or they would be forced to kill him without finding out who he was working for. There was also a possibility that if the public found out about the threat, it would raise a panic. That was where he and Veld came in. They were to find Ross's contacts in the city and locate him if he was still in the area, recover the Materia, and quietly dispose of Ross with no one the wiser. It was all very cloak and dagger, but he wouldn't say that his hands had been entirely clean before.

He frowned, watching as Veld turned and began walking towards one of the shops that lined Junon's main thoroughfare. Shion followed close behind him, keeping a close eye on the crowd that parted slightly to let them pass. Veld had been very clear before they left the building. His job for today's round of questioning was to keep watch, pay attention, and not say a word.

The shop appeared to be a small hardware store, with various collections of tools, paint, and other mechanical odds and ends lining the shelves. The whole place felt more than a little cramped, with low ceilings and cluttered shelves that lined the walls leading up to the counter. A small, mousy looking man stood behind the counter, wiping down the glass. He looked to be in his mid-forties, with a thinning head of hair that was quickly going gray, and small, beady dark eyes. The shop smelled vaguely of dust and paint thinner, and Shion glanced at the thick coating of dust on one of the shelves, wondering when the last time they had been cleaned was. A small television was on in the background, displaying the latest news report from the front. He glanced at it, eyeing the by now familiar image of a young teenager, with silver hair falling slightly past his ears and glowing green eyes.

Apparently, Shinra's new golden boy had earned himself a field promotion to First Class after his much publicized war victory a few weeks ago. Shion turned his head away from the TV as Veld approached the counter. Good for him.

The man at the counter looked up as Veld approached. He seemed surprised to see him there, but not in the same startled kind of way that Shion had seen others react to the Turks. His eyes widened behind his glasses, and he put down his rag.

"Look, I already told your buddies, I don't know anything about that trade from Corel," he said. "Nothin' you say is gonna make me remember anything."

"I'm not here about that, Ed," said Veld.

The merchant blinked at Veld. "You're not?" he asked.

"No." Veld pulled a photograph out of his inside pocket, placing it on the countertop. Shion discreetly shifted position to get a better look. It was an image pulled from the file, one that showed a man in the uniform of one of the Shinra employees speaking with a tall dark-haired man, one with his back to the camera. "Does the name Aaron Ross sound familiar to you?"

Ed scowled, picking up the photo and squinting at it critically. "Ross?" he asked. "Yeah. Weapons guy. Comes in once in a while, sells his stuff to the shop downtown. He's legit as far as I know. Nothing illegal, only sells stuff for travelers." He set the picture down, looking up at Veld. "He's got something going on on the side?"

"That's classified," said Veld, almost casually. "When was the last time Ross was in town?"

"A few months ago, last I heard," said Ed. "You think he's in town now?"

"That picture was taken last week," said Veld, inclining his head towards it. Ed stared at it for a moment longer, studying it. After a while, he pushed away from the counter, shaking his head.

"Well..." he said. "He didn't come here for a sale."

"How do you know that?"

"I just saw ol'Matt from the weapons shop the other day," replied Ed. "Came in here for some paint. He was complaining about the war making it hard for him to get anything stocked. Said he hadn't gotten anything new in weeks."

"Does he have any ties in this town? Any family, any friends or people he's been seen around?" asked Veld.

"Don't know much about his personal life," replied Ed. "He's been known to hang around Benton's—that bar down on 12th. Might ask around there."

Veld nodded. "We'll look into it."

"Anything else you want to know?" asked Ed, giving the counter one last cleaning before chucking the rag underneath the table. "I'm about to close up shop." He gave the clock behind the Turk leader a meaningful look, before glancing back at Veld.

"...One last thing," said Veld. "Where does he get his supplies?"

"Has 'em shipped in from Costa," said Ed, shrugging. "At least that's what he claims. Like I said, his business seems straight. But..."

"But?" prompted Veld.

"Heard tell that he's spent some time down at the Canyon," said Ed, giving Veld a knowing look. "Now, if _I _were workin' for Shinra, which I'm not, and this guy was fixing to give me some real trouble, I might find that an itty bitty bit suspicious, if you know what I mean."

Veld nodded in response. His expression didn't change, but Shion could tell that he was slightly intrigued. He leaned forward, sliding the picture off the desk and slipping it back into his pocket. "We'll look into it," he said. "Thanks for the information."

"My payment?" asked Ed.

"It'll be wired to you the usual way." He turned, nodding at Shion. Shion frowned, tearing his eyes away from the counter and following Veld out the door. Behind them, the television continued to display the news, this time showing a press conference held by President Shinra. Shion ignored it, letting the door close behind him and following Veld out into the streets.

"He's a small-time fence," said Veld, once they were far enough away. "Doesn't deal in anything big enough to cause the company trouble. We keep him around because he can get us information about the underground."

Shion cast the shop a last look. It didn't really surprise him. He had always known that the Turks had to have connections. There were too few of them for the amount of ground they covered and the amount of information they knew. "What was that about Cosmo Canyon?"

Veld frowned, glancing around him to see if anyone was watching. Shion looked as well. The streets were even clearer now than they had been when they first arrived, and the sun was starting to go down. It was getting a little chillier, with the area not having completely shaken off winter yet. A cold wind blew through the streets, and Shion was almost thankful for the dark suit. No one was looking at them specifically, but they were keeping their distance.

"Anti-Shinra sentiment..." replied Veld. "We're keeping tabs on it. So far, it hasn't materialized into anything concrete." He shot Shion a knowing look. "Why? Been there?"

"A couple of times. It's not too far from Gongaga."

"Any special reason?" asked Veld.

"I like the stars."

"Hmm." Veld turned away, looking straight ahead of him. "Shion is a Wutaian name."

"My mother was Wutaian," said Shion. "She liked asters. She said they symbolized remembrance."

"Of her homeland?" asked Veld idly.

Shion shot Veld a dark look. "Am I being interrogated?" he asked.

"No," said Veld. "Is it wrong of me to want to know more about my employees?"

"You can read my file," said Shion coolly. "Or my arrest report." Shion looked away as they walked in silence. He scowled, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword again. "It's true. I have no interest in the war effort. In fact, I feel strongly against it. But you didn't hire me to fight in the war, so it shouldn't matter what I think of it. Unless you're thinking of sending me back to prison."

Veld shrugged. "You're certainly entitled to your opinions," he said, his expression growing serious. "But before anything else, you're a Turk. And above anything else, the Turks always fulfill their mission."

Shion scowled in reply, looking back at the streets. "I'll do my job," he said. "...What's our next move?"

"We'll scope out that bar Ed mentioned," said Veld. "Or rather..." He shot Shion a slightly amused look. "You will."

Shion blinked in surprise. "Me?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, I'm too recognizable," said Veld. "I'm the head of the department after all. But they shouldn't know you. You'll go in tonight, in plain clothes, and see what you can find out about Ross." Veld glanced back at him. "...You do know how to blend in at a bar, don't you."

He snorted bitterly, thinking back to his days before this. "I'll manage," he said dryly, as the two of them rounded the corner that led back to the Shinra Building.

A small figure bumped into his side, a hand brushing the front of his suit. The touch, compared to everyone else's avoidance of them, startled him. Shion looked down, just in time to see a head of straggly reddish-brown hair under his arm. It belonged to a child. She couldn't have been any older than six or seven, and she was so thin he almost didn't notice her weight.

"Sorry," she mumbled, keeping her head bowed as she pushed past him, running down the street. Shion blinked, pausing in his walk and looking back at her. She was dressed in a threadbare coat a few sizes too big for her, with patches sewn clumsily into the elbows, and a pair of cracked shoes. He watched as she vanished into the crowd, her small form disappearing into the stream.

Veld paused as well, looking back at Shion. "...Another street urchin," he said.

"Mm," said Shion, looking back at Veld.

"Check your pockets," cautioned Veld, turning away from the sight as well. Shion frowned, slipping his hand into the pocket nearest the area where the girl had touched. He groped around with his fingers, his frown deepening.

Veld raised an eyebrow. "Something missing?"

"Just pocket change," said Shion, pulling his hand out of his pocket. "My wallet's still here."

"I see," said Veld. He glanced back at the crowd, then turned away, walking back down the street. "Well leave it," he said. "She probably needs it more."

Shion nodded once, slowly tearing his eyes away from the crowd as well. He slipped his hands into his pockets, following Veld down the street.

XxXxX

The children's home was a rundown building on the corner of 5th and D St. It was surrounded by a high fence, a small dirt courtyard in front of it with a rundown playground. The building was always overrun with children, running around the courtyard, calling each other names, and occasionally managing to get themselves dirtier and grimier than they already were. She kept her head down as she passed through the gate, making sure the small bundle of warmth pulled close to her chest was well hidden.

One of the boys noticed her as she walked in. She kept her eyes to the ground, slipping her hands into the pockets of her coat. One of her fingers found a hole that hadn't been sewed up, and she slipped her finger through it, gripping her coat from the inside.

"Hey! You ran off!" he shouted gleefully. "When Maura finds out, she's gonna be mad!"

She said nothing, continuing to walk. She knew his type. If she didn't say anything, he'd eventually go away.

"What's the matter?" asked the boy, running up to her. "Cat got your tongue?"

Still, she said nothing, not even looking at him. He scowled at her, then reached out and shoved her. She was prepared for that—she knew how to make a good show. The girl obligingly took a step back, stumbling and falling onto her rear. The boy stood over her. He was nine, and bigger than she was, and he liked to bully people. That was just how he was—he'd been that way from the moment he turned up on this doorstep.

He stuck his tongue out at her, turning and running back to where his friends were watching.

The girl waited until she was gone, then slowly picked herself up onto her feet. She didn't say a word or make a sound, her eyes shadowed by her hair as she turned and walked away, walking around to the side of the building.

The roof was her secret place. It was slanted, not flat, and she was the only one who knew the correct combination of handholds and footholds along the side of the building to reach it, the only one who knew the secret place where a child could sit and not be seen. She was the smallest of the children her age, and she knew how to use it, how to hide. She scrambled up the side of the roof now, then settled into her hiding place, wrapping her coat tightly around herself and curling up so that she was resting her hands on her knees.

It was cold, but she liked this place. It was quiet, and no one could reach her up here.

Slowly, she reached into her coat, pulling out the loaf of bread she had bought with the gil she'd taken. It was still warm. She unwrapped it with her hands, taking a bite out of it.

It was still cold, but it brought with it the promise of spring.

She watched as a bird flew on the wind, alighting onto the rooftop. It was a small sparrow, about as big as her hand, and it eyed her suspiciously, keeping its distance. She took another bite of bread, idly tossing a small chunk at it. The bird looked at her, before pecking loosely at the crumbs.

Below her, she could hear the children talking, shouting, and playing, shoving each other and yelling. Constantly. Always yelling. It was never quiet around here. She caught snatches of conversation rising up from below, some of it about her.

"_...she's gonna get it again..." _

"_...I heard they're still fighting in the war..." _

"_...be a SOLDIER one of these days..." _

"_...Did you see those guys in the suits?" _

The girl frowned at that last one, clutching her loaf of bread tighter. She took a bite into it, staring at the bird. It looked up at her for a moment, cocking its head. She wondered if it understood.

The wind blew again, and the bird hopped up, flying away.

She watched it intently, her eyes focused on every movement of its wings.


End file.
